


Let Go

by HermioneGrander



Series: Din and Grogu | the Clan of Two Trilogy [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29820165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermioneGrander/pseuds/HermioneGrander
Summary: When Din Djarin was only six years old, a droid’s stray blast meant for a clone trooper hit Din’s grandfather instead..Din has had a lifetime of learning to let go.
Series: Din and Grogu | the Clan of Two Trilogy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2192097
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	Let Go

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the first work in what will be my 3-part series of Din and Grogu stories and studies. These 3 stories are not meant to be connected or related to each other, and I did not write them to be read as if they followed along one after the other. However, whether you wish to view them as separate or one continuous story is up to you. I simply mention this to say that there will be continuity errors if you choose to read them as one story, and that is because they were not written to be one story. In fact, that they follow any timeline at all was completely unintentional. 
> 
> For some clarification:  
> In my notes, I made Din's grandfather's name Osteff Myren, Din's mother's maiden name Adina Myren, and Din's father's name Verek Djarin. This isn't exactly necessary to remember, but just as some background information.
> 
> The story of Din's grandfather is not canon, I just wanted to tie Din and his family to the clone wars a little bit more. 
> 
> Pijal was a planet introduced in Master and Apprentice by Claudia Gray, one of my favourite Star Wars books. The state of Pijal and its trade is never confirmed post-Master and Apprentice, so I did my best. I'd like to think that a popular planet along a literal trade route would still receive merchants from afar, especially once the oppressive control of a massive slave "trade" corporation is gone. 
> 
> Clone Wars is the most meaningful Star Wars content for me, for the nostalgia and characters alone, and I did my very best to honour the era and the canon storyline. If I made a mistake, please inform me of such. I will not be hurt by it, as I am a fallible human being and mistakes are necessary on my journey to learning. 
> 
> This was a tough one to write. As my first official character study (that anyone knows about, at least) I really had to call on my years of English literature study and my 'inner symbolic nature' to get this done. I'm still not 100% sure I did it well. Though that's for you to decide. The title and summary are the theme, that I tried very hard to reflect and maintain. I hope I managed that efficiently enough that it's relatively easy to see.

When Din Djarin was only six years old, a droid’s stray blast meant for a clone trooper hit Din’s grandfather instead. His grandfather - Osteff Myren - was a civilian, a merchant, and it was only his first day on Pijal, his first day of trade. A battle had struck the capital city where he was staying; a battle that had been in the making for years now, a battle incurred by high tensions and an unwelcome Separatist presence on a planet that had claimed neutrality. 

The Republic had come to  _ save _ Pijal, to  _ liberate _ it from Separatist influence. In reality, they simply lit the fuse that set off a Separatist bomb: droids poured out of every street corner as if spawned from the walls of the buildings that made up the capital of Pijal; merchants and consumers alike cried out as stalls containing entire livelihoods were thrown about in the upheaval; dead bodies or those so severely injured they’d simply given up stained the ground red. The Separatists had been waiting for this chance, and they took it as soon as they could just make out the white of the clone troopers’ armour, the thin black line of their visors.

Din’s grandfather really hadn’t stood a chance.

News of Osteff Myren’s passing reached Aq Vetina by storm. They were a small settlement, the kind where everyone knew each other by name, and a death of this calibre was unheard of. So naturally, they grew to fear for the worst.

“Do not cry for your grandfather, Din,” his mother had said, holding back her own tears and wiping away Din’s. “My father lived a good life.”

She’d been wrong; he cried for his mother that day, not his grandfather. He hardly knew Osteff Myren, but Din remembered how important the man was to his mother, all the stories she’d tell of him with admiration shining in her eyes. He cried for his mother, who now held Din’s face in her hands as if  _ he _ were the one who had died.

Din Djarin’s mother taught him then a lesson which would - as he’d discover in the future - become one of the most important things he could ever learn. 

“Listen to me, my son,” she’d said, “This galaxy is full of fighting and death. Soon the war will reach us, and we must be prepared. We must ready ourselves for  _ anything, _ yes?” (His mother often tagged a “yes?” onto the end of her sentences, but Din knew she was not looking for a response.) “We will fight for our home. Your father and I- we will fight for  _ you. _ But should we fail, should something happen to us, you will need to let  _ go. _ Could you do that for me?”

Din hadn’t understood; what she’d said made no sense to him. But his mother was asking him to do something, so despite his lack of understanding, he’d nodded.

His mother had smiled sadly at him. This was the answer she’d wanted, yet Din couldn’t help but feel like it had been the wrong one. 

“Good, my son. I only ask this of you because it is most important that you live, do you understand?” (Another forced nod.) “If your father and I go out into a fight and we don’t come back, you must honour us and move on. You must honour your word and  _ let us go _ . You cannot move forward by waiting for us to come back for you.”

She’d kissed his forehead hastily. Her tone had begun to scare Din, though her words made less and less sense the more she spoke.

“This galaxy has a place for you, Din. A purpose. I do not know what that is yet, but - my son - you are going to be so important; not just to me and your father, but to  _ so many _ others as well. You are going to do amazing things someday, I can feel it. So I need to know for sure - please, Din - I must know that should- should we ever be separated,” her voice had started to shudder; she took a shaky breath before continuing. “Should we ever lose sight of each other, you must promise me you will not hold onto us, you will not hold onto this place or your past. You must promise me that you will  _ let go _ .”

She had waited then, watching his face closely. Din’s breathing was quick, uneven, and nervous. He’d always known his mother to be strong, and brave; but now, as she held his face in her shaking hands, her red and glistening eyes scanning him rapidly, she seemed anything but. Whatever his mother had been saying, whatever she’d asked of him, it had scared even  _ her.  _ And that was enough to terrify Din. So, in a quiet voice much smaller than himself, he had said the only thing he thought would appease her.

“I promise.”

-

Two years later, when the war finally  _ did _ reach their little settlement, and took Din’s parents’ lives with it, his mother’s words finally made sense; and Din wished, more than anything, that they didn’t, that he’d soon see his father’s smiling face and hear his mother call his name one more time. But he’d made a promise, and as a child forced to mature too quickly for his age, he knew in his heart that to betray that promise would be to betray his mother. So he squeezed his hands tight into fists, breathed heavily through his nose, and forced the tears to stay back.

As a Mandalorian carried Din away, as they flew over what was left of Aq Vetina, Din forced himself to let go.

  
  


~

  
  
  
  


Din Djarin re-entered his covert to find a pile of discarded and damaged armour obstructing the path. He knew what it meant even before he approached it, even before he dropped to one knee, the familiar sorrow dragging him down. His people, his family, his friends and old sparring partners, the ones who’d driven him mad, the ones who had never failed to get on his nerves, the ones who’d made him smile when he thought he couldn’t, the ones who had offered their arms as comfort, who’d stood by his side in battle not too long ago; they were all  _ gone. _

“You must go,” the Armourer said. “A foundling is in your care. By Creed, until it is of age or reunited with its own kind, you are as its father. This is the Way.”

She was the last left, if no one else had managed to escape. Din recalled times when  _ she  _ had been the one to step in after a fight broke out amongst the foundlings, when Paz would shove Din against a wall and mock him for being so quiet. She would put a comforting yet firm hand on his shoulder and crouch down to his eye level, and offer encouragement. She’d told him stories of Mandalorians whose quietness had saved them their mission, Mandalorians who used the shadows to their advantage, Mandalorians who inspired entire civilisations without ever having to say a word. There were times when, if Din closed his eyes real tight, and didn’t listen too hard, he could pretend it was his mother’s hand on his shoulder. But then he would chastise himself for such a thought; he’d made a promise, after all.

Din saw himself being faced with the same promise again.

“Come with us,” he said.

“My place is here,” the Armourer replied.

Din had always been able to hear her authority in the way she spoke, but now her tone was drenched in a sadness that refused to dry out, instead soaking into every surface available. Despite their helmets, Din knew he held her gaze with his own, and in his mother’s voice he heard the Armourer’s silent plea, the same as when he’d first heard it spoken aloud all those years ago.

_ “You cannot move forward by waiting for us to come back for you.” _

Din felt his chest tighten, bracing himself for what was to come.

“Now, go!” The Armourer demanded a final time.

_ “Let go.” _

-

  
  


Din was still learning. It was still a struggle. At times he feared it always would be. But now, he held a new life in his arms; a small creature who had effectively and almost effortlessly gotten under Din’s armour, had unearthed his heart. Now, he had a foundling of his own to care for, to look after, to protect. To  _ love. _ This child made all of those things seem easy; each task became second nature to Din, something he did without hesitation, and would do again, if just to see the child smile. 

He will continue to learn, with this child, and he knows it.

As he flies away from Nevarro, from his home, his throat tightens with the same ache, his eyes threaten the same tears as they did all those years ago, watching the landscape of Aq Vetina grow smaller and smaller. But it’s easier, now; he can still breathe. He holds the child closer to his chest, and he doesn’t look back.

With slightly less reservation, and only a little bit of hesitation, Din Djarin let go once more.

  
  
  
  


~

  
  
  
  


All his life, Din Djarin had struggled to understand how his mother had been so brave in the face of losing her son. How she could have forced him into the underground make-shift shelter and not have joined him, how she could have offered herself as a diversion, though it had failed. Din had struggled to see how, in the face of danger, his life became the priority; how  _ she  _ could have let go, how she could have expected the same of him.

Then the time came for Grogu to be returned to the Jedi. And Din finally understood her selflessness.

Din knew this day would come, the day he would have to leave Grogu with a Jedi, the day he would be separated from the small being who had reminded him that his heart could still  _ love.  _

The closer he felt that day draw near, the more he feared he wouldn’t be ready, that he’d try to hold onto something - to some _ one -  _ who wasn’t his. At least, someone who wasn’t going to be his any longer. Someone he felt he didn’t deserve to care for in the first place.

Now, standing before him was a powerful Jedi, willing to train Grogu when Ahsoka would not, one Grogu had called out to specifically. As Din held the child close, staring into those big brown eyes that matched his own, his vision no longer obstructed by a dark visor, he was reminded of his mother’s bravery, of her words of wisdom Din had taken for granted for so long. 

Grogu needed training, he needed to be with his own kind. He needed to be safe, and to Din’s heartbreak, “safe” for the child meant somewhere Din could not follow. 

As he watched the Jedi walk away, Grogu secured in the mysterious man’s arms, tears sprang to Din’s eyes. Before, when he’d tried to recall the image of his mother’s face, he felt it slowly slipping from his memory’s grasp over time. However, summoning that memory once more, he saw her clearly now; he saw her kind eyes that glistened with unspoken sadness, he saw her weak smile and heard the seriousness in her plea for him to “ _ Let go.” _

When Grogu found Din’s eyes again from across the hall, Din finally knew how his mother had been so brave, how she’d been so willing to sacrifice herself to grant Din even just one more day of his life. 

Din understood her resolve, the fire in her eyes and the fierceness in her voice, her steadfast protection for him. For he had gained what she had then, he had known love as she had, and now he felt the loss she would have felt had she not made her sacrifice.

He loved Grogu. For this reason, the child’s safety, his growth, meant more to Din than his  _ own _ happiness, than his  _ own _ comfort. He watched Grogu leave, knowing it was the right choice, that his  _ son _ would once again find peace. And Din found that this sacrifice was not so hard of a choice to make. As much as it hurt, for the first time in his life Din felt absolutely certain he’d make it out alright. So long as Grogu was content, cared for, and received the training he so long had needed, Din would find comfort.

Loving Grogu, caring for the child, protecting him, bringing him back to his people; that all had become Din’s purpose, the purpose his mother had known he would grow to have all along. The purpose that would touch the hearts and reach the ears of many across the galaxy.

This time, Din Djarin didn’t have to force himself to let go. 

He let go willingly.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you read all of this, thank you.  
> This story means a lot to me, as Din means a lot to me.  
> This is not required, but I'd so greatly appreciate some feedback; maybe tell me what you thought about the story, tell me if I was successful in creating sadness or any other emotion, tell me something you liked and didn't like, tell me about an interpretation I had that you agreed with or disagreed with, whatever is your fancy. Again, thank you for reading this. It's a privilege to be able to share my writing, but it would have no use here without anyone to read it. <3


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